reindeer dust

"Hey Mason, whatcha got there?  Somethin' interestin'?  Anythin' involvin' the nip?"

"You tell me, Seville.  It's a letter addressed to you. Well it's a scroll, actually. I found it lying here in front of the fireplace.  I think it came down the chimney."

"You're kiddin'!"  Seville padded across the family room floor and gave the rolled up piece of paper a good sniff.  It smelled old and musty with a faint, underlying aroma of sugar cookies.

And Mason was right about the scroll being for him, for Seville the Cat was written across it in black lettering.  "And you say it came down the chimney?  Never knew Canada Post started deliverin' mail that way.  Never knew they were deliverin' scrolls now at all!  MOUSES!"

"Why don't you open it up and see who sent it?" Mason suggested.  "It might be important."

Seville unrolled the scroll very gingerly, as it looked so old, he thought it might disintegrate if handled roughly.  "Hmmm..."

Dear Seville the Cat.  Emergency situation at North Pole.  We need your help.  Please come straight away.  Love, Santa.

"Oh my mouses, Mason!  This here letter is from Santa Claus, himself.  At least I think it's from Santa Claus.  You know of any other guys goin' by the name of Santa, these days?"

Mason rolled her eyes.  "I think it's safe to assume it's from the Big Guy in Red, all right.  And by the sound of it, he's in trouble.  Shall I prepare the teleportation device for two?"  And before Seville could argue about it, she added, "I'm going with you.  In an emergency situation, eight paws are better than four."

"Fine," Seville sighed loudly.  "You can come along.  MASON, PREPARE THE TELEPORTATION DEVICE.  I'll go pack up some snacks.  The North Pole is a fair distance away and one should never teleport snackless.  MOUSES!"

The two cats busied themselves getting ready for their trip up north, and within minutes, they were soaring across the Atlantic provinces in a north-westerly direction, heading straight for the pole.

"Shoulda brought a scarf or somethin', I think," Seville shivered.

"Shoulda coulda woulda," muttered Mason.  "Next time, perhaps you'll think of bringing that instead of all these snacks."

"Wanna freeze-dried salmon treat?" Seville offered.

"Don't mind if I do," and Mason popped one into her mouth before reaching for a second.

"There it is!" Seville cried as he spotted Santa's workshop down below.  "I'll bring us down next to the reindeer barn."

"HOLD ON TIGHT!  THERE'S AN UPDRAFT OR SOMETHIN' GOIN' ON HERE," Seville hollered. "By gosh and by golly, between all the radioactive reindeer dust and Santa's magic flyin' around, weather patterns at the North Pole create a mousin' lot of turbulence.  Landin' can be dicey at best. We'll be lucky if I can land this here flyin' fryin' pan within..."

SPLAT!

The cats' teleportation device hit the snow with a thump, but their velocity was so great, they slid several meters, picking up speed on an icy patch.  Seville hoped the snowbank up ahead would bring them to a stop but instead, the frying pan glided up its side, and before they knew it, they were airborne once again.

"MASON!  WE'VE GOT RADIOACTIVE REINDEER DUST IN THE FORWARD EGGBEATER.    BRUSH SOME OF IT OFF SO I CAN LAND THIS THING!!!"

"THE DUST HAS FROZEN ONTO THE BEATER, SEVILLE.  I CAN'T BRUSH IT OFF!"

"MASON, TAKE THE CONTROLS!  KEEP 'ER STEADY.  I'LL GET RID OF THAT DUST.  I KNOW JUST WHAT TO DO."

Mason managed to circle back once Seville had dealt with the frozen radioactive dust.  "How did you get rid of it?" she queried.

"Did what I had to do," Seville answered smugly.  "Good thing I'm a good aim when I spray."

"Ewww..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...  Least we can land this thing now.  Let me at those controls."


Santa's magic was still creating a lot of turbulence, and Seville had a hard time keeping the teleportation device steady.  It veered unexpectedly to the right, and then swung back, hard.

Thump.  THUMP. THUMP.

"We're down.  We've landed.  Whew!  That there was a close one, for sure," Seville sighed with relief.

Mason peered over the edge of the device.  "Uh, Seville.  You landed on top of the barn."

"I did?  Oh.  Well uh...  Um...  Least I landed somewhere!  No matter.  Santa lands on top of roofs all the time.  It's kinda his thing."

"But you're not Santa Claus!" Mason cried, flinging her paws up in the air.

"No, he is!" and Seville smiled as he saw Santa approaching.  "Come on Mason.  Let's go ask him why we were summoned."

Seville jumped down from the barn roof, onto the snow below, with Mason at his heels.

"Are you sure?  Are you SURE?" Seville asked Santa.

"I'm as sure as sure can be, little guy."  Santa scratched behind one ear.  "And for the life of me, I can't figure out what to do about it.  Nor can Mrs. Claus.  You're our last hope, Seville.  And if you and your sister can't find an answer, there will be no Christmas for all the little boys and girls around the world."

"Not to mention the cats," Seville murmured under his breath.

"Or the cats, either," Santa nodded.

"But are you absolutely sure Rudolf even has the cold?" Mason asked.  "I know his nose is all red and puffy but doesn't it always look like that?

"Yeah," piped up Seville. "How is Rudolf's nose different from any other time?"

As if in answer, Rudolf sneezed, spraying radioactive reindeer dust all over Seville.

"YUCK!  Okay, okay, I get the picture.  You don't have to sneeze on me twice!  Rudolf, you've got a nasty cold, for sure."  Seville patted the reindeer on his back.  "It's okay there, little buddy.  Mason and I will figure somethin' out.  We'll have you flyin' again, in no time."

                                                 ********************************

Be sure to return on Christmas Day for the conclusion of our 2016 Christmas adventure!

gone fishin'

*Thwack!  Thwack! THWACK!*

"Done."  Seville sat back on his haunches to admire his handiwork. "And it looks pretty darned good, too, if I do say so myself.  In fact, it looks PURRfect, for sure," he chuckled.

"You spelt fishing wrong," a voice behind him said.

"Did not!" and Seville swung around to find his sister, Tess, leaning up against a wall.  "F. I. S. H. I. N.  Fishin'.  What's wrong with that?"

"Suit yourself," Tess shrugged, "but I think there's supposed to be a letter 'g' somewhere in there."

Seville scowled at his sister.  "That's 'cause you're not sayin' it right.  MOUSES!"

Tess skulked off down the hallway, growling and flicking her tail, this way and that, as she went. Moments later, one of Seville's other sisters, Mason, appeared.

"You're going fishing?" Mason asked.  "May I come?  I've always wanted to go fishing but no one has ever invited me.  I don't suppose you'd like to?  To invite me on your fishing trip, I mean."

"Sorry sis but there's only room for the three of us in the teleportation device, what with the fishing gear and stuff.  Plus, I need to save some room for Nellie, in case she feels like fishing, too."

"The three of you?  And Nellie?  You're taking half the feline household fishing and possibly a guest and you're leaving ME behind?  You have a lot of nerve there, Seville.  Who are you taking? Rushton and Anderson?"

"Are you kidding me?"  Seville rolled his eyes back so far into his head he thought they might never come back out again.  "Can you really see Andy fishing?  You're supposed to be quiet when you go fishing, so that you don't scare off all the fish.  Andy has never been quiet in his life!  I don't think he even knows how.  MOUSES!"

"Then who are you taking?" and Mason gave him a look that could topple a brick building, while impatiently tapping a back paw on the floor.

"The stuffies," answered Seville.  "Well...  the one regular stuffy and the other one is a pin stuffy but they're both stuffies, really.  You know the stuffies.  You saw 'em when they arrived.  Those two adorable little stuffies that are oh-so-cute and very, very handsome.  They look just like me.  The stuffies Nellie's mum made.  You know Nellie.  Nellie from the wonderful and always oh-so-interestin' and always entertainin' and really, really fun blog, Living on the Edge.  Sevilles number two and three."

"You went number two, Seville?" Anderson asked as he passed the other two cats in the hallway. "Hope you did it in the litter box!  Haha... Haha... HAHA..." he guffawed before stopping in his tracks.

"Uh, I know what number one and number two are but what's number three? Never mind.  I don't think I want to know.  I think number three might be like that time when I got into the cream and my lactose intolerance got the best of me and..."  Without finishing his sentence, Andy darted down the hallway, disappearing into the bathroom and the nearest box.

"Anyway..." Seville continued.  "Like I was saying, I'm taking Seville number two and Seville number three fishing, out on the west coast. Gonna catch us some wild pacific salmon like those freeze-dried Wild Pacific Salmon treats Nellie sent me, along with the two stuffies her mum made. Gosh those treats were yummy.  Scrumshidumshilicious, in fact.  Sometimes, at night, I close my eyes and dream of those delicious Wild Pacific Salmon treats.  Mmmm...."

Now it was Mason's turn to roll her eyes.  "You and your snacks.  Boys!"  And with that, she was off down the hallway, making sure to hold her breath as she passed the bathroom where Anderson was busily covering up something unmentionable, in the litter box.

"Now, time to pack up the teleportation device," Seville declared.

"Fishing gear...   Hmmm...  I wonder what kind of bait I need to catch salmon treats.  And can I fish for the packages of treats themselves, or should I be catching live salmon?  And if I catch live salmon, should I bring along somethin' to freeze dry 'em right there, on the spot?   All very good questions, for sure.  I bet Nellie will know the answers.  After all, she knew 'bout those delicious treats in the first place.  I'll take a fishin' rod and ask Nellie 'bout bait when I get there.  And I think the peep has a dehydrator or somethin', somewhere around here.  Bet it's in the basement. MOUSES!"

After packing up the teleportation device, Seville went off in search of Seville numbers two and three, who had disappeared under the chesterfield, after being offended by Anderson's bathroom comments.

"Don't worry 'bout what Andy said," Seville comforted the two stuffies.  "Andy doesn't have a clue what he's talkin' about...  AS USUAL.  MOUSES!"

Finally, with the teleportation device fully loaded, and all three Sevilles ready for their long trip out to the west coast, Seville set the coordinates for Nellie's house.  He then fired up the eggbeaters that would power his flying frying pan using eggbeater teleportation technology.

"Hang on tight!" Seville instructed the two stuffies.  "We'll be at Nellie's in about two shakes of a whisker. Maybe three, with this headwind we've encountered.  'Bout five minutes, I suspect.  Good thing I brought along some snacks," and he dug into the bag with the fishing gear, looking for the snacks he had packed. "When teleportin', always be prepared with snacks," he told the two stuffies, knowingly, as the three soared across Lake Ontario.  "Never leave home without your snacks.  Never.  Not ever. MOUSES!"

blown off-course

THUMP!

"What the mouses?" cried Seville as he looked up from his computer. "Snowball hit my office window or something?  Is someone throwing snowballs at my window?"

The marmalade cat got up from his desk, hopped onto the window ledge, and peered outside. "Awww...  MOUSES!  It's a bird.  I can see a wing protruding out of the snow."

"Peepers!  OH PEEPERS!" Seville yelled.  "Bird down, outside.  You wanna do something about that?"

The cat's cries were met with silence.

"For mousin' out loud," Seville muttered under his breath.  "PEEPERS!  PEEPERS!  There's a bird outside needing your help.  Did you hear me?  Some stupid bird hit my office window and as I'm busy working on my blog post, you're gonna have to deal with him.  Okay?"

Settling back in at his desk, Seville started to type but after a few minutes, he realized that Peep #1 had not yet gone to the aid of the injured bird.  "MOUSES!  Boy-oh-boy I have a useless peep.  I can see I'm gonna have to go outside and help that bird myself."

Seville stomped across the office floor, toward the door.  Stepping outside, he made his way over to where he had spotted the bird earlier.  "Oh my mouses!" he gasped, stopping dead in his tracks. "Uhhh...  Ummm....  Excuse me but uh...  I'll be right back."

Racing back into the house, Seville yelled up to Peep #1 from the bottom of the stairs. "PEEPERS! We've got the weirdest looking bird out front.  He's pretty big for a normal bird and not at all pretty and I think he's wearing a diaper.  Seriously Peepers, you have got to go out there and deal with that uh... thing.  And could you get on that right away 'cause to be perfectly honest, he's kinda freaking me out.  Peepers!  PEEPERS!  You up there, Peepers?  Come on, I need your help down here.  PEEPERS!!!"

Met with silence once more, Seville threw his paws up in the air with frustration and stomped back outside.  "Diaper or no diaper, I can see I'm the only one capable of dealing with this stupid bird.  I have got to get myself some better staff.  MOUSES!"

"Hey, did you just call me a bird?" the bird asked.

"He wears a diaper and talks.  MOUSES!"

"I am not a bird, sir.  The name is Cupid and would you mind helping me out of this snow?  It's really cold."

Seville grabbed Cupid by the arms and pulled him to his feet.  Narrowing his eyes he asked, "Are you sure you're not a bird?  You have wings like a bird."

"I am most definitely not a bird," Cupid scowled.  "A cat thinking I'm a bird.  Of all the...  Oh, it's absolutely FREEZING out here!" he cried, and beginning to shiver, he drew his arms close.  "How can you stand it?"

"Yeah, well welcome to Canada, buddy with wings but who's not a bird.  It's the middle of February so that kinda means there's gonna be snow and it's gonna be cold.  Maybe if you weren't flying around out here in nothing but a diaper..."

"It is NOT a diaper!" Cupid yelled.

Seville raised an eyebrow.  "Really?  'Cause uh...  'Cause it kinda looks like a diaper to me.  Hey! Watch where you're pointing that thing," and he pushed Cupid's bow and arrow away from him.  "You could hurt somebody with that."  Seville sat back on his haunches and stared at Cupid.  "Okay, so you're not a bird.  Not even a diaper-wearing bird.  But you do look pretty cold.  Why don't you come inside and warm up."

Cupid sat down at the kitchen table while Seville poured two mugs of hot nip tea.  "Get this into you and you'll feel a whole lot better," advised Seville.  "So tell me, how did you end up in my neck of the woods and crashing into my office window?"

"That last Nor'easter blew me off course.  I tried flying around it but got caught up in some tail winds and then when they turned..."

"You have a tail?  I didn't see any tail," and Seville tried to get a glimpse of the back of Cupid. Seeing nothing but wings he gave up and asked, "Cinnamon heart?" The cat pushed a candy dish across the table after grabbing a pawful of the candies himself and popping a couple in his mouth.

"But they're green," Cupid stated, staring at the heart-shaped candies.

"That's on account of the nip," explained Seville, crunching down on one.  "Nip makes 'em green."

Cupid picked up a candy and sniffed it.  "And they smell..."

"Nippy?  Of course they smell nippy.  That, too, is on account of the nip.  I get Peep #1 to make 'em for me using nip in place of the cinnamon.  Much better that way, for sure."

"But then why do you call them Cinnamon Hearts?" asked Cupid.

"Oh my mouses, Cupid.  They're called Cinnamon Hearts because today is Valentine's Day. Everyone knows you have to have Cinnamon Hearts for Valentine's Day.  Valentine's Day just wouldn't be the same without a few Cinnamon Hearts on the go.  You're not too up on this Valentine's Day business, are you?"

"Well actually," began Cupid, "Valentine's Day IS my business.  It's my busiest day of the year and I cannot believe, for the life of me, that I'm stuck here in a cold and snowy place, conversing with a marmalade cat at his kitchen table and eating catnip-flavoured, green Cinnamon Hearts that do not look or taste like real Cinnamon Hearts at all."

"And don't forget how you're doing all that while wearing a diaper," added Seville.

"It is NOT a diaper!" Cupid cried.  "Look Mr. Cat, I need to get out of here and fast.  Today is Valentine's Day and I have work to do."

"Work?  YOU GO TO WORK WEARING A DIAPER?  Just what kind of work do you do?"

Cupid opened his mouth to complain about the diaper comment again but thought better of it.  He needed Seville's help.  "Please...  I'm not sure that I'm up to flying on my own.  I hit that window pretty hard.  Maybe I could catch a last-minute flight.  Is there an airport nearby?"

"Not a commercial one, no.  Where is it that you need to go?"

"I needed to be in Paris hours ago.  Are you sure there are no International airports around here?" asked Cupid.

"Sorry kiddo but...  WAIT A MINUTE!" and Seville slapped a paw to his forehead.  "I can teleport you over to Paris in a jiffy.  You ever travelled before using eggbeater teleportation technology?"

Cupid screwed up his face.  "Eggbeater what?"

"Eggbeater teleportation technology," Seville repeated slowly, exaggerating every syllable. "Mouses, don't know why I didn't think of that before.  I can get you to Paris in mere minutes.  That would be Paris, France, I assume.  Or were you heading for Paris, Ontario?  Doesn't matter, really. All I need are the global teleportation co-ordinates and we'll be all set.  Well all set except for..."

"Except for what?" Cupid questioned.

"Well except for that stupid diaper you're wearing.  No way, no how, am I travelling all the way to either of those two Paris places with a bird or a baby or whatever you are, while you're wearing nothing but a diaper."

"But it's not a..."

"Yeah, yeah," Seville interrupted.  "You keep saying that and one day, someone might even believe you, but that someone is not gonna be me.  A diaper is a diaper is a diaper, for sure. Hmmm...  We're going to have to find you an outfit of some sort. Neighbours' dog over on the next street has an entire wardrobe of jackets and stuff and I think you and he are about the same size.  I'll pop over and ask if I can borrow one for you while you find this Paris place on a map.  Meet you back here in ten minutes for teleporation.  Okay?  Okay."

Seville was still muttering as he turned to leave for the neighbours' house.  "Gosh, some baby bird guy hits your office window and you try to help him out but all he does is argue about diapers and stuff.  Gotta get rid of him quickly so that I can get back to working on my blog and wish everyone a Happy Valentine's Day, for sure.  MOUSES!"

                                    *******************************************

               HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY EVERYBODY!
             Love you!  Love you lots!  Love you always and forever.  Purrs, Seville.

the broom closet

"I'm coming!  I'M COMING!  Hold onto your horses," Nissy cried. "That is, if you have any horses to hold," he added, muttering under his breath.  "I'll be there in a minute.  Just wait one mousie mousin' moused-up minute, would you?  MOUSES!"

"You gonna answer that doorbell, Niss?" Seville questioned.  "Someone keeps ringing it."

Nissy glared at his brother, Seville, chowin' down on kibble, and pursed his lips.  "You could have answered it yourself, Sivvers.  Nothin' stoppin' you from answerin' the door."

"Peep #1 says we're not allowed to open the door to strangers.  If someone's going to get in trouble, best it be you," Seville replied.  "I get myself into enough trouble as it is."

Nerissa stomped over to the front door.  Getting up on his hind legs, he pawed at the handle and pulled.  The door swayed open, revealing a woman wearing a long dress and an extremely pointy hat.  "You're two days early for Hallowe'en, kiddo," Nissy told the woman.  "Peeps don't have the candy out yet.  Come back Friday," and he began to push the door shut.

"I'm not here for candy," the woman purred.  "I'm looking for Nerissa the Cat."

Nissy stopped in his tracks.  "Ummm...  Exactly what would you be wantin' with this Nerissa the Cat fellow?  You sellin' somethin' or somethin'?"

"Do I look like a salesperson?" the woman asked, impatiently.  "I'm here to pick up my order."

"Order?  Order for what?  This isn't a take-out restaurant, lady.  This is my house."

"But this is the address on my bill," the woman explained.  "See?" and she passed Nerissa a blank piece of paper.  As if by magic, a quill pen suddently appeared and began to write on the paper, all by itself.  The paper began to look very much like an invoice for a...

"SIVVERS!!!" Nerissa hollered.  "You know anythin' about someone sellin' flyin' brooms and usin' my name to do so?"

Seville sauntered over to the door.  "You must be Tabytha Stonehenge.  Very pleased to meet you.  I'm Seville," and he extended a paw to shake the woman's hand.

"What the mouses is goin' on here, Sivvers?  What have you been up to, this time?"

"No worries, bro," Seville quipped.  "Just a little business I set up over on your blog.  I'm selling flying brooms now.  Just a seasonal business.  Only open for the month of October.  You know, because of  Hallowe'en.  The shop is called The Broom Closet.  Pretty smart, huh?"

"You're sellin' flyin' brooms?  FLYIN'?  BROOMS?  ON MY BLOG?  MOUSES!"

"No need to get your mouses in a dither," Seville said calmly.  "I'll just finish up this little transaction with Ms. Stonehenge and explain everything later.  Did I mention you were going to get a ten percent cut of the profits?"

"You didn't mention anythin' at all," Nissy answered through gritted teeth.  He sat back on his haunches, contemplating his next move.

"Ms. Stonehenge, I have your order right here," and Seville pulled a large package out of the hall closet.  "One custom-made, paw-crafted, one-of-a-kind, five foot broom.  The sporty edition. Perfect for a lovely female witch such as yourself."

Nissy bit his lip, issuing forth a small cry.

Seville ignored his brother and continued explaining about the broom.  "The eggbeater is concealed under the straw of the broom, you see," and Seville pulled back the straw to reveal gleaming, metal beaters.  "No one will ever know the broom is being powered using eggbeater technology rather than witchy spells. And did I mention speed when we spoke last?  The broom has a maximum speed of eighty-five kilometres per hour for low flying but will exceed one hundred and fifty, at higher altitudes.  Clearly, for long-distance trips, you'll want to take a high-altitude flight path.  I would also recommend securing your hat."

Nerissa extended his tongue as if to wash a paw but rather, held it between his paws, thus preventing himself from interrupting Seville's spiel.

"This sporty edition was designed for maximum manoeuvrability," continued Seville.  "You can turn on a dime on this thing, if you so desire.  You've chosen an excellent model, Ms. Stonehenge. Your witchy friends will be mightily impressed."

Tabytha examined the broom closely.  "You said it was one of a kind?" she asked.

Seville pawed at the carpet.  "Um, yeah.  Yours was my only sale so yeah, definitely one of a kind."

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Nissy pulled at Seville's tail with a paw.  "We need to talk," he told his brother.

"Excuse us," Seville said to Tabytha.  Turning to Nerissa he hissed, "Niss, I'm in the midst of finalising a sale.  She hasn't paid for the broom, yet.  Can't this wait?"

"No, it can't.  I have some questions for you, Sivvers.  How did you access my password protected blog to set up a business?  Where did you get the brooms to sell?  And finally, does the peep know you're sellin' flyin' brooms from the hall closet?"

"Niss, I access your blog ALL the time.  Your password is nip.  Not very difficult to crack.  I ordered the brooms on-line, using the peep's credit card.  Easy.  And no, Peep #1 does not know I'm selling flying brooms from the hall closet and if my luck holds, she never will.  Don't tell on me, okay Niss?" Seville pleaded.  "I really want this business venture to work.  I'm thinking that The Broom Closet could be the next big thing."

"Fine," Nissy scowled.  "I won't tell the peep but you and I are gonna have a very long conversation about usin' my blog to promote your fly by night schemes when all this is over."

"Fly by night!  I LOVE THAT!  Niss, you're a genius.  I'm going to use that in The Broom Closet's next advertising campaign."

"Awww....  MOUSES!" Nissy cried in frustration.  Getting his brother to close up shop was going to be more difficult than he thought.

"It's perfect!" Tabytha suddenly squealed with delight.  While the boys had been deep in discussion, the witch had been quietly inspecting the new broom and had found it to be to her pleasing.  "I'll take it.  In fact, I'm going to fly it home, tonight."

Seville smirked at Nissy.  "See?" and he poked his brother in the side with a paw.  "Another happy customer.  The Broom Closet is going to do so well."

"Another?  But I thought you said Tabytha was your only customer?  Just how many schemes have you come up with, usin' my blog? Nissy asked Seville.

"Ummm...  Never mind that, Niss.  I'm workin' on this one now.  With your blog and my business acumen, we're going to do so well.  And I'll give you full credit for your Fly by Night motto thingy, there. That's brilliant, that is. Next Hallowe'en, I bet we'll double our sales!"

"You mean you'll sell two flyin' brooms, Sivvers? MOUSES!"

"Well, when you put it that way..." and Seville pawed at the floor.  "Actually, when you put it that way, I bet we'll triple our sales.  Yup, definitely triple them."

The boys watched as Tabytha Stonehenge flew off with her new acquisition from The Broom Closet. Seville purred to himself with satisfaction.  Nissy cringed, waiting for the next shoe to drop, being thankful that neither he nor Seville actually wore shoes, thereby reducing the likelihood of any dropping.